this oneshot is based off the game 'this war of mine', just so you know!
Thomas watched.
He watched out that same broken window, at that same, never changing, bleak sky stained by acrid smoke rising.
He watched, but he was dreaming of somewhere else.
Somewhere that wasn't ripped apart by war.
Somewhere where the sun shined down on green grass and pristine streets.
But all that was longing.
In reality, he was standing in front of a stove he had built himself, cooking some less than satisfactory stew.
Downstairs, the radio crackled and screeched as someone messed around with it.
Out in the distance, gunshots puttered.
And he hated it.
"What's going on, Tommy?"
Okay, maybe he didn't hate all of it.
A pair of skinny arms wrapped in a leather jacket far too large snaked around his waist. Newt rested his chin on his shoulder.
Newt was his rock, his ray of sunshine from those hopes and dreams that seemed impossible. His light in the cold darkness of the reality they were in.
"Thinking."
"What about?"
"The war."
Newt left it at that.
Nobody liked talking about the war.
"Stew's done. Could you call Minho and Teresa up?"
"Yeah."
Newt left the kitchen and Thomas poured the food into bowls and set them out for the others.
"Thank god, I was getting really hungry." Minho announced dramatically as he walked in. He grabbed a bowl and began eating.
Teresa followed and picked up her own bowl and took a spoonful. She gave Thomas a small smile.
"Thanks, Tom."
He nodded as Newt walked back in and took the last bowl.
They ate in silence, standing in their small kitchen they had tried their best to clean up.
"The radio said that there's been an increase of crime lately." Teresa said, setting down her bowl. "We'd better finish boarding up the house."
Newt frowned. "Do we have enough stuff for that?"
"I don't know."
"Well, just to be sure, whoever goes out tonight can grab some shit. Whose turn is it?" Minho asked.
"I think it's mine." Thomas said.
And that was that.
▪︎
Night drew closer.
Thomas stood at the work table, rummaging through their few belongings to see what he may need to take in his backpack.
Newt sat with his legs folded under him on the nearby bed, watching him.
"You be careful out there Tommy, y'hear me? I don't need you ending up dead."
"I know, Newt."
"I know you know, but I got to remind you."
He paused and sighed, looking over at Newt. He bit his lip and sat down on the edge of the bed.
